


Restlessness

by afraidtobelieve



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode: s03e03 Ways and Means, Gen, Post-Episode: s03e02 Manchester Part II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27251038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afraidtobelieve/pseuds/afraidtobelieve
Summary: They haven’t had a moment to breathe- much less relax- in months. Most of the campaign staff have retired to their rooms for some much-needed sleep, but Josh and Donna are still here.A series of post-eps starting with "Manchester Pt. II.”
Relationships: Josh Lyman/Donna Moss
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	1. Chapter 1

The last time they did this, he thinks, everything felt lighter. It’s only been four years but god, that first campaign feels like a lifetime ago. He feels so much older than his 38 years.

The president’s announcement went off without a hitch earlier in the day, and everyone feels a little better now than they did this morning, this week, this month.

They’ve all been subpoenaed, so nothing is really okay yet, but he’s finally starting to think that it will be eventually. He’s finally starting to believe that they might have a fighting chance again.

They’re drunk in some shitty bar in Manchester when he drags himself back from his alcohol-induced reverie. Reverie, he thinks, because “zoning out” sounds too incidental, too passive. Reverie, because he’s Josh Lyman and even this hazy state of disjointed thoughts must have some sort of greater cosmic purpose. 

Donna has had more to drink than she normally does when she knows that Josh will probably get plastered, and when he looks to his right at her delicate profile, she’s swirling the ice in her whiskey and giggling. 

“What’s funny?”

“I just-” she looks up, her gaze amused and open in a way that it hasn’t been in months. “Joshua and Nashua. They sound funny together. Like a Dr. Seuss poem.” 

He rolls his eyes and chuffs, taking a swig of the beer she made him order instead of the third glass of whiskey. ( _I can’t carry your ass out of here, Josh. There are too many stairs between here and the hotel_.)

“Poet laureate Donatella Moss strikes again.”

They haven’t had a moment to breathe- much less relax- in months. Most of the campaign staff have retired to their rooms for some much-needed sleep, but Josh and Donna are still here. 

Across the bar, Toby just accused CJ of cheating at pool and CJ is arguing that she deserves a win after the week she’s had. There’s a terrible rock ballad playing on the jukebox and he wishes he had some quarters to play something palatable.

“Josh?” His assistant starts haltingly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think the president should have apologized to us?” She’s still swirling her drink, but the smile is gone from her features. She stares into her glass in concentration.

“He did apologize to us.”

“No, I mean... do you think he _should_ have. Like, do you think he had an _obligation_ to.” 

Well.

“I don’t know,” he breathes.

“Yeah.” 

She pulls a few quarters out of her wallet and slides them onto the bar in front of him.

“Please go pick some decent music, Josh. I’m dying here.”

He gives her a real smile at that and saunters over to the jukebox. 

He picks out something less nauseating before returning to the bar. He’s contemplating another drink when she drains her whiskey and announces that she’s turning in for the night. She must not have cared about the music after all. He shrugs and finishes his beer.

“I’ll walk you back.”

“Josh, it’s 3 blocks.”

“I’m walking you back.” 

He drops a couple of bills onto the bar and they are out the door.

The air outside is humid, but the loamy smell of impending summer rain makes up for it. She breathes it in, missing Wisconsin and the days when her greatest worries were calculus and getting home by sunset. 

“Probably going to rain soon,” he says conversationally.

“Mmmm. Good sleeping weather.” She exhales, wishing she’d switched to beer on that last drink.

“Are you okay?”

“Sure. Should’ve switched to beer.”

He sighs.

“That’s... not what I meant.”

He knows he should’ve asked weeks ago. She’s been working as hard as any of them, maybe harder, coordinating his life and her own on top of any number of possible doomsday scenarios in the wake of the MS disclosure.

“I’m fine, Josh.”

That answer doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but he isn’t sure if he should press the issue. Not here, not tonight, each of them several drinks deep and still wading through the stress and deep-seated melancholy of the last few weeks.

Doug was right about one thing: this isn’t the campaign they wanted to run. Josh wonders if he’ll ever get another chance.

_Oh, hell._

“Donna.”

“I’m tired, Josh. Can we do this some other time?”

He senses a restlessness in her lately. In three years, he’s never seen her like this for such an extended length of time. It worries him. He doesn’t know what to do when Donna is off-kilter like this. 

This is all he’s ever wanted, this life. But even now, there’s an inkling of a desire for _more_ , somewhere in the back of his mind. He wonders if she feels it, too. 

They reach their respective rooms, and Donna is grateful that this hotel uses real keys. She doesn’t want to watch Josh struggle helplessly with an electronic keycard before she has to step in. At this point she usually just lets him into her room so he can enter through their adjoining door. 

_They let this man run a country_ , she thinks.

She’s been in her room no more than two minutes, her blouse half-unbuttoned, when she hears their adjoining door swing open with a loud creak.

“Okay, I know we said we weren’t gonna talk about it tonight but I want to.” He flops onto her bed, shoes on, completely unfazed by her state of undress. He’d be an HR nightmare if they weren’t, you know, _them_. 

“Actually, I said _I_ wasn’t going to talk about it. And I still don’t want to.” Her voice is flat, resigned to the fact that, despite her half-hearted efforts, they’re probably going to talk about it. 

She grabs her pajamas and makes her way into the bathroom to change, unwilling to test the limits of how far she’d have to undress to make her boss uncomfortable. She leaves the door open just enough for them to keep talking.

“ _Donna_ ,” he starts. He’s whining, and she’s really not in the mood to deal with the whining. She rolls her eyes as she changes, waiting for him to continue.

“What, Josh?” She hears him leap off the bed as she begins to brush her teeth.

“I, you seem... distant, is all.” He appears in the doorway and leans against the frame, fiddling with the towel hanging from the hook on the wall.

She finishes brushing her teeth a few moments later and wipes her mouth on another towel.

“Josh, you’re in my hotel room in the middle of the night, watching me change and brush my teeth. How much closer could we possibly be?”

“I’m... I wasn’t,” he sputters. “I wasn’t watching you change!”

She rolls her eyes. 

“What do you _want_ , Joshua.”

He looks down and somewhere to the right, refusing to make eye contact. 

“I just... wanted to know what’s wrong.” 

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong is we’ve been firing on all cylinders for months and I’m exhausted and you won’t _let me sleep_!” His head snaps up at that. She’s prone to raising her voice- anyone would to survive working with him- but she rarely sounds so angry. 

“I’m... sorry, I’ll uh... I’ll, you know, leave you alone then.”

He looks so dejected. She pinches the bridge of her nose as she follows him back into the bedroom. 

“I’m sorry, Josh. I didn’t mean to... I’m just tired. We can talk in the morning, okay? Or some other time when we haven’t worked a 16-hour day.”

He chuckles. 

“See you in 5 years, I guess. Or one, if we really blow this whole thing to pieces.”

Her swift exhale might’ve been a laugh.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks again.

Maybe it’s the whiskey or the late hour. Maybe it’s his soft tone of voice or the fact that his face looks so damn earnest in the poor yellow light of her hotel room. Maybe it’s all of those things or none of them at all. His effect on her is as strong as ever, despite her best efforts.

“Josh, I’m... this is all just... it’s overwhelming, sometimes. Don’t you feel overwhelmed by all of this?”

He exhales resignedly and stares at his shoes, hands in his pockets as he leans against the frame of their adjoining door. His body language tells her that he isn’t quite ready to have this conversation either. He hears the pitter-patter of rain begin against the window as he tries to piece together reassurances in his jumbled mess of a brain.

“I’m… kind of always overwhelmed, Donna. This job, this life, it’s never easy. It shouldn’t be. I don’t want it to be, you know?”

She nods.

“I don’t want it to be easy, either. But I just, sometimes, sometimes I feel like I’m... stagnant. Or something. Like this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I also feel like I’m drowning in it. Like it’s, it’s all I have, and it’s dragging me down.” 

He’s never heard her speak like this. Like what they’re doing isn’t the most incredible thing that’s ever happened to either of them. Like she’s not awestruck every time she looks at the president. At _him_.

“Donna, I know this is hard. Is there, is there anything I can do? Do you need some time off or a... or some time away?” 

“No! No, of course not. I could never leave you, or... I could never leave the president in the middle of this. I just, I need a good night’s sleep and not to drink whiskey when I’m feeling morose.”

“Morose? You’re _morose_?”

“Morose is maybe a little dramatic. Introspective. I’m feeling introspective.”

“Introspective,” he repeats.

“Like, I have this incredible job and wonderful opportunities but I’m still... I don’t know where my life is going, Josh. I’m all alone out here and my family is a thousand miles away. I have very few friends outside of work and I haven’t been on a date in.... god. What else is there?”

“I don’t... know.” 

And that’s the truth of it right there. He doesn’t know. He’s never cared to find out, not really. Not until... well, not until recently, anyway. He’s not restless like she is, though. She seems to be itching for... something. Something more, something new. Something else.

“Yeah, me neither,” she sighs as she looks down at her socks. 

“You seem to want more, Donna. Do you want more responsibilities? Because we can talk about that. I mean, you know, when we’re back in DC we can talk about that. You’ve been working your ass off and, and you deserve more.”

She’s silent, unmoving, as he keeps talking.

“You can handle more.”

She waits a beat, then raises her eyes to meet his. They’re dulled from the alcohol and slightly red-rimmed from lack of sleep, but still as deep as ever. She crosses her arms in front of her as she speaks.

“You keep talking about _more_ , Josh. I don’t want more. Not right now, at least. I just... don’t want the job to take any more from me than it already has.” 

Donnatella Moss, who might have doubted herself but never showed it, who packed her bags in Wisconsin one morning and drove to New Hampshire. Donna, who squared her shoulders and hurled herself into the tumult. Donna, who has never looked so defeated in all the time he’s known her.

“Donna... what’s _wrong_?”

She shrugs and looks away again.

“I don’t know.”

And with that, she makes her way towards her bed.

“Josh, I’m tired. We can talk about this some other time. When things aren’t so... you know.” 

He doesn’t want to stop talking. He doesn’t even want to leave the room. But it’s 3 o’clock in the morning now and they both have to be up at 6, so he decides to shelve this discussion for another time. 

“Just... promise me something, Donna.”

“What?”

“Don’t... just, um... talk to me if you’re still feeling this way or if you’re thinking about making an important decision like... like quitting or, you know, befriending a Republican. Okay?” 

“I’m not going to quit, Josh.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Ahkay.”

“Goodnight.”

“Night.”

He retires to his own room after she turns out her light. He leaves the door unlocked before taking off his shoes and pants, then climbs into bed in a shirt and boxers. He turns off his own light and lies awake in the dark, staring at an endless expanse of nothing. 

He’s worried about her. 

They’ll talk again soon, when things are less hectic. But for now, he’s worried. She’s restless, and while he believes her when she says she won’t leave- she’d never leave the president like that- he’s worried about what she might do in the meantime. What more could there possibly be at a time like this? 

They need to get to the bottom of this before she does something she regrets.

Maybe tomorrow. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Donna hadn’t particularly planned on going out with anyone in the middle of all this. 
> 
> Post- “Ways and Means”

Donna hadn’t particularly planned on going out with anyone in the middle of all this. Really, she hadn’t. She barely had time for a social life even  _before_ she became an integral part of making sure the president didn’t get impeached. She hadn’t planned on going out for drinks after spending 24 hours rifling through paperwork.    
  


Boxes. 

So many boxes. 

She hadn’t planned on liking him, and she sure as hell hadn’t planned on sleeping with him. But, well.

She’s lying on her bed facing the window, listening to the sound of his cab drive away. It’s past midnight and she has to be at work by 7 to make sure Josh’s desk isn’t an utter disaster before he comes in, but she isn’t particularly tired. 

It was... fine. Cliff was nice and it was fine.

She was perfectly within her rights to take some time for herself and let off a little steam. She hadn’t initially known he was on Oversight, and he hadn’t known she was so involved in the fallout from the MS. Neither of them revealed state secrets while they made out against her apartment door. 

She really shouldn’t have, but it happened and now it’s over. Maybe she’ll get some sleep if she can put it all down on paper. 

She digs through her bedside drawer for a moment before she notices that her diary is on the floor next to her bed. She momentarily wonders if Cliff pulled it out, then dismisses the idea for the more plausible explanation that she tossed it to the floor earlier in search of a book or some aspirin. She flips to a blank page and begins to write. 

—————————

The next morning dawns gray and much too early. Donna’s groggy and her head hurts, but Josh’s office won’t run itself, and he certainly wouldn’t survive a day without her on account of a mere sleep-deprivation headache. She smashes the snooze on her alarm before blindly reaching for the bottle of aspirin, taking two pills and downing them with water before even opening her eyes. 

It’s only 5 am, but it’s definitely going to be one of those days.

She showers and dresses, haphazardly blow-drying her hair before giving up and pulling it into a ponytail. No reason to try any more than necessary if she’s going to spend the next 14 hours in a basement anyway.

Her coffee tastes more acidic than normal and it turns her stomach. She can’t decide if eating will make her more or less nauseous, so she errs on the side of caution and forgoes her usual granola bar.  _Maybe later_ , she thinks.

The metro isn’t completely empty at this hour, but it is more desolate than her usual commute time of 7 am. This crowd is more subdued, more exhausted, save for the occasional early riser who actually  chose to go into the office this early. She silently commiserates with the girl in the Starbucks uniform, desperately trying to finish what looks like a school assignment before her shift. The sky is bleak and her bones feel like sand. 

She smiles at Dave, the security guard at the front desk, then several staffers on her way to the operations bullpen. She moves to unlock Josh’s office, but is surprised when the door opens with a gentle push. She finds her boss hard at work in the cavernous dark of his office. 

Donna double-checks her watch. 6:45.

“...Josh?”

“Hmm.”

“Josh.”

He looks up, a bit wild-eyed from what is clearly an intense wave of inspiration... or caffeine. Oh boy. 

“Hmm? What?”

“Josh, did you go home last night?” The low-grade headache is quickly growing into a migraine. Maybe she’ll spend today working in the dark, too.

“Uhhhh, yes?” He winces. He knows that wasn’t convincing, even to his own sleep-deprived brain. 

“You have senior staff at 8. Go home and shower.”

“No time. I’ve gotta finish my notes on this report. Can you get me a bagel?”

Her migraine grows.

She leaves his office without a word and makes a beeline for the mess. 

One cup of coffee and two bagels in hand- one for her boss and potentially one for herself if she ever starts to feel better- Donna makes her way back to the operations bullpen. She’s rounding the corner when she runs into Sam. Literally. 

“Oh!” She yelps as the coffee spills everywhere. A few drops on him, but mostly all over a blouse that she really loves. It’s enough to send her over the edge and her eyes begin welling up.

She hands Sam a napkin and begins to frantically wipe at her torso with another, trying desperately to hide the tears that are beginning to spill over. 

“Sam, I’m so sorry! I’m so- let me just get this bagel to Josh and then I can help Bonnie get you a clean shirt. I’m so, so-“ she’s rambling and she knows it, but she just can’t reign her emotions in today.

“Donna.” 

She pauses when he places his hands on her wrists, stopping her panicked attempt at cleaning up. His face is calming- Sam is always so reassuring- but he also looks a bit worried. He knows she’s tired, of course she is, they all are, but Donna seems to need a break more than anyone today. 

The eye contact is more than she can take. Her chin quivers despite her best attempts to quell it, and the single tear track that’s already made its way down her face is enough for Sam to usher her into his office and shut the door. He places the bagels on his desk and the empty coffee cup in the trash before sitting down with Donna on the couch. 

Her previous panic has been replaced with what looks like utter despair, which worries him. 

“I wasn’t going to make a joke about crying over spilled milk, but your creamer-to-coffee ratio might actually qualify that drink as a dairy product.” 

It’s not usually difficult to make Donna smile, but today she merely sniffles in response. Her tears seem to have stopped, so he’ll take that as an encouraging development. Ever the gentleman, he hands her a box of tissues.

“Sorry, I save my fancy handkerchiefs for Josh.”

That earns him a small smile, and he beams in response. Donna’s always liked that about Sam. His genuine, pure joy for others is so endearing. He is completely translucent in a way that few people in politics are. She feels like she’s drowning in this series of seemingly minor events that have led to such a bad morning, but at least she still has a friend in Sam. 

“I’m sorry, Sam. I really am. I just-“

“Hey, it’s alright! Everything is ok. Are you ok?” And that nearly sets off a fresh round of tears. 

“Yeah, I’m... it’s just,” and she takes a moment to regain her composure. He waits while she takes a few deep breaths. 

“I’m sorry, Sam,” she says, far more composed. “I’m just having one of those days.” 

That doesn’t seem to satisfy him, but he lets it slide for now. Donna may be having a tougher time than normal right now, but there’s just no time today, or tomorrow, or even next week to really deal with their personal issues right now. He does have one idea, though. 

“Absolutely no need to apologize. I completely understand, Donna. Why don’t you let me take this bagel to Josh while you go clean up, okay? I’ll explain everything and if he has a problem, he can come through me. Okay?”

She nods and stands up. 

“I’d hug you if I wasn’t covered in coffee.”

He chuckles and grabs the bagels.

“I appreciate it.” 

When Donna returns to the operations bullpen wearing a spare blouse from Ginger, Josh is standing by her desk in his own fresh shirt. She breathes a sigh of relief that at least he’ll be able to argue that he cleaned up, even though he’ll never be able to convince Leo that he got any sleep last night. 

She checks her watch: 7:45. 

This morning has already lasted decades.

“You have senior staff in fifteen,” she says by way of greeting. Her migraine has dulled a bit, but she sidesteps him to dig her spare aspirin out of her purse while he follows her with his eyes. 

“Hey, uh... Sam said you’re not feeling too well. What’s wrong?” She gives him a lot of credit for being genuinely concerned, but she’s also too tired to really articulate what the problem is. 

_Sorry, boss. I slept with your current nemesis and I’m not sure if I violated any laws while we were at it. By the way, do you know if a lobotomy would be an effective cure for a migraine?_

“It’s fine, Josh. Just one of those days. You have senior staff.” 

He gives her one last skeptical look as she rearranges paperwork to avoid his gaze. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoping everyone is happy and healthy. 
> 
> Xo, E

**Author's Note:**

> This is the beginning of a multi-chapter fic that will span the length of several episodes, because I'd like to believe that Josh and Donna's interactions in the first half of season 3 have a little bit more backstory to them. I hope you are all happy and healthy. XO, E


End file.
